A whole box of cute

I thought I was going to spend the day gardening, but it snowed last night. So that was out.

Then I thought I was going to spend the day planting more seeds indoors. But that didn't happen.

Something...something came up.


A kitty named Basta.

A hand raised, bottle fed, 4 week old kitty named Basta.

Emma says: "Kitty!"

Close up of cuteness!

Schlurp! Schlurp! Schlurp!

Oh and he brought his brother and sister.

Two headed catastrophe of cuteness

That's Jag.

Mmmmm-milk!

I've seen Emma make that same face.

I've already found a home!

Jag is the only girl. There are two boys. The first one, the one that looks like mini-Pixel, is currently named Basta since he talks alot (Basta is Italian for Enough!). His crying saved their lives. Apparently momma kitty (outdoor, feral farm cat) went away one day and didn't come back. Heather heard his crying and rescued them from imminent doom. They were only a few days old when that happened and she's been bottle feeding them ever since.

Every two hours.

Yeah, she's tired.

I can't remember what this kitty's name is currently. He's a beautiful all-over marmalade color with spots on his belly and a swirl on his side. When I held him, he snuggled into my arms and my brain ran out of my ears in a rushing stream of hot goo and all the reasons I don't need another cat ran out with it.

Can you hear the tiniest of honk-shus?

If you zoom in, you can see many of the tiny scratches on Heather's arms that she gets while feeding the kittens. And I thought the twins had sharp fingernails!

You are disturbing my rest for peeksures?

I'm not sayin' I'm gettin' another kitten.

Heather was dropping Tara off for a playdate with Caitlin and just "happened" to have a box o' kitties with her. I'm just sayin' they all came in and we sat on the floor and played with kittens for a few...hours. And snuggled them. And waved them in Eric's general direction.

A lot.

What better way to spend a Monday?

Say it with me, now: "Eeeeeeeee!"

Wordless Wednesday VI

Slugging it out for title of Most Ridiculously Cute, in this corner we have bathing twins!

First bath together.
Do not try this at home. We are trained twin wrassling professionals.

And this this corner, four week old kittens!

Tabby kitten. So cuh-yoooot! I want to squeeze her!
But not too hard!

This little guy is Heather's favorite. He has a tiny orange mustache and no tail.

Momma kitty: "Help...me! The...kittens! They're...every where!"

I'm not sure if Momma Kitty would agree with me, but I think it might be her babies. Then again, I'm not nursing them!

For more Wordless Wednesday posts, click here.

For more of my Wordless Wednesday posts, click here instead.

Always Respect the Claws

Valerie lost her kitty, Ozzy, to cancer last week. Last night she wrote a Speaking for him. Essentially a eulogy. If you've ever loved and lost a pet, especially a cat, you should go read it.

Rules of Ozzie:

- I can touch you, you can't touch me.
- I can come up to you and sniff and put my paw on you and sit up so I can get very close to you..... but that still doesn't mean you can pet me.
- If you don't follow this rule I will hiss. At the very least.
- If you show any fear I may swipe at you as you walk by me.

You might need a few tissues. I'm just sayin'....

I'm still a little haunted by Pixel, but in a good way (For more about Pixel, just search my blog for his name. There are many stories. Bring tissues.). Each loss leaves a little hole in your heart. Each kitty seems to ghost through the house for up to a year after their death. Are they tiny furred ghosts or are they just really loud memories? I don't think you can live with anyone for 16 years and not see them walking through your days for ages after they are officially gone.

Can you?

I don't generally believe in ghosts, but kitties seem to be different. Then again, other than my immediate family and Eric, I've never lived as long with anyone that has died other than my cats. Their deaths always feel a lot more real than that of the humans in my life that have died.

That's pretty weird, isn't it?

Little House on the Desert Plain

Our house is 20 years old this year.

It has been ours for the last 13 years; we bought it the year before we got married and thought it was perfect. We had been renting a 700 sq ft apartment and when we bought 3x that size, we couldn't figure out why the current owners complained that the kitchen wasn't big enough!

Hah ha! Ha! Haaaa.

We were young and foolish then.

It wasn't a fixer-upper, 'cause we're just not handy like that. A little painting, a little electrical work, sure, but not the rip-up-the-walls and add-a-new-room types. Thus began the years of check writing.

First, we finished the basement. And by we, of course, I mean the company we hired because we would do horrible damage to ourselves if we attempted such a thing. This was followed by a massive interior repainting which we did ourselves. That was fun! Especially since it was the summer of the Miller moth invasion. Imagine being 12' up on a ladder, painting the ceiling when Miller moths start dive bombing your head.

The expression is creepy crawly, not creepy fly into your face and make you almost lose your grip and fall to your death/derangement/damage, thankyouverymuch!

That was also the summer that we discovered that there really is a limit to the number of moths your cats will eat.

That's when we also discovered that the vacuum with hose attachment is a great way to get rid of moths.

Um. Anyway! More years passed by and I was busy throwing hissy fits over the lack of counter space in the kitchen. This was combined with Eric's decision to go to law school and the knowledge that we wouldn't be able to move for several years, even if we wanted to. I then demanded insisted strongly suggested that if we were to remain in this house for the next 5-7 years, that for my sanity's sake we needed a kitchen remodel. And while we were at it, let's re-do the master bathroom. Oh and get rid of the carpet, too.

I designed the kitchen on graph paper, lovingly, to scale. Eric wrote the check. We each have our talents.

Then, after we discovered the amount of damage Pixel had done to the basement walls, we had a mini-remodel in the basement (Ripped out the bottom 12" of drywall all the way around and 24" in the corners.) and put bamboo flooring down there as well.

After all that, the house was looking guuuuuuud. It was then time to repaint the outside from the eye-searing pastel yellow to a deep, intense shade of blue. A color that is not for the color faint of heart. The eye-searing had actually calmed down over the years, but initially it was awful. My apologies to those of you that like yellow and specifically pastel yellow, but it was never the color for us. I remember distinctly that when we pulled up to the house with our real estate agent that both of us took one look and were willing to pass. Fortunately the agent insisted we look inside. Smart lady.

And we looked upon our house and it was good.

Until we had a massive hail storm and had to replace the roof, along with everyone else in the neighborhood.

Oh and let's not forget last summer's remodel of the rooms for the kids. That journey began here and ended here.

Then, finally, after complaining miserably about being hot in the summer of my Preggosaurus-ness (First reference to Preggosaurus.) and noticing that the A/C couldn't keep the temperature below 81 degrees, we saw that the windows were shot. The double paned window seals were gone and there wasn't just a little moisture in there: it was a Biodome. Sea-monkeys could have set up shop in there, disappointing yet another generation of children for their failure to actually be...monkeys. (Nice job, sellers of brine shrimp. You suck!)

Ahem. Yes. Where was I?

Oh! So then Eric and I made a deal. He could buy his neat new-to-him car and I could get new windows.*

Score!

What?!

Oh.

I disappointed you, didn't I? I should have bargained for something else? Windows aren't as sexy as a new used car, that's true, but it is what I wanted and felt kinda like a luxury. Although it's kinda funny to call being kept warm in the winter and cool in the summer a luxury, isn't it? Hmm. Maybe I should've asked for more sleep?

No, wait. He doesn't have any of that either.

So windows it was! Errr...is!

I feel warmer already!

No, I'm not exaggerating. You can no longer feel cold air pouring down on you while you sit on the sofa next to the window. (I can hear Sierra cheering from here.) A definite problem when watching movies at night. In the winter. As an added bonus, the street noise has been cut down considerably.

Aaaaand!

The windows are clean.

That's right! It was all a ruse to avoid washing the windows! Bwaaahahahhaaa!

Aha! Ha! Heeeeee! *wheeze*

I need to get out more.

So, here's my question:

If eyes are the windows to the soul, what are windows? The eyes of the house? If so, (Eww! Creepy image!) 9 out of 16 of our house's eyes just had laser surgery.

Come on over! It's warm inside!



* The moral of the story? Rent. It's cheaper.

One Year Later...

A lot can happen in a year.

Weddings, engagements, anniversaries, births, deaths (him, too), birthdays (too many to link!), first days of school, first lost teeth, first dances, massive gardening challenges, hummingbirds, pregnancies (Misty, me, and my kid sister), losing friends to far away states, making new friends, a little travel, starting a new business and putting it on hold.

Failures. Triumphs. Anger. Contentment.

Every year contains so many different experiences, not all are fun or nice, but all appear to be meaningful in some fashion. This, I believe, is why I don't regret a single year of my age: I'm 38 and I'm damned proud of it. Every year has gotten better and better, so how can you regret your age when the alternative is death? Besides, the whole concept of my life peaking in my twenties and going downhill from there? Total bummer for someone that plans on living until well into her nineties! I mean, can you really imagine spending the next 70 years of your life as a let down after 25? Come on!

This year, though, has been a little different. Blogging is a funny thing. It's rather like writing letters to your nearest and dearest and not being surprised, shocked or offended if random strangers also get that letter. Strangely enough, that part's kinda cool. (Hi, random strangers! Nice ta meetcha!) This tiny piece of the internet has allowed me to stay in better/constant contact with my friends that have moved in a way that I never would have otherwise. I'm terrible about calling anyone and forget about receiving letters or cards. Besides, if you could only see my handwriting, you'd understand! Sometimes even I don't know what I've written.

I has also noticed that one of my biggest fans (many of whom are silent) is my mother-in-law. The funny side effect of letting the family in on the existence of the blog is that those that choose to read it have gotten to know me better. The ties that bind, indeed! I think it's also helped me to reconnect with my sisters. This is a big deal to me and I can't even begin to tell you how happy I was to spend an hour on the phone with my big sister and chatter away without feeling like we were both tiptoeing around one another. That's a big change in the last year.

It has also allowed me to put all of those pictures in one location and stop bombarding the inboxes of assorted friends and family members.

So, yeah.

One year. 327 posts. A whole whacking lot of pictures, realizations, observations, memories, laughter and tears. Hell, I cried just finding the posts to link above (The Dance and Goodbye Pixel are too much for me, even now).

Welcome to my world. Stick around, it's gonna get better and better.

Breaking Ground

Bags after bag after bag of 12 year old plus trash has been thrown out of the closet. Items untouched since the day we moved in. Dust gathering in layers that could tell the story of our lives in this house.

Layers of moving in dust. Layers of painting other rooms dust. Layers of remodeling dust. Layer upon layer of 5 different cat's worth of cat hair infused dust.

Today is the day that all changes. Now a new layer of dust is going down - the remodeling of this room dust.

Sierra (Thank you! Thank you so much!) volunteered to help paint the room and remove carpeting. Today we (I say "we" but really, it was Eric and Sierra - I just got my ginormous self out of the way) started with removing all remaining stuff that we want to keep out of the room (temporarily in some cases), ripping up carpeting and padding, removing the baseboards and tack strips and discovering just what kind of damage Pixel did to the subfloor. You know, considering that we'd replaced the original carpet just a couple of years after we moved in and that that room was off limits to cats for many years, it is amazing just how quickly Pixel was able to destroy that carpet. Oh, and he had to work hard at it, too, since there was grey rubber mats all over to protect the floor from the weights.

So yes. The floor.

Here's the plan:

1. Remove carpeting and pad. Done!
2. Remove staples in floor.
3. Remove baseboards.
4. Vacuum floor.
5. Paint with Kilz to seal in anything...unpleasant.
6. Begin painting walls.
7. Once the walls are done, remove fan.
8. Paint ceiling in fabulous dark blue with glow in the dark paint used on the stars.
9. Install fan.
10. Apply stencils.
11. Install new flooring.
    
12. Install new baseboards.
13. Pass out from fumes.
14. Install bookcases, crib, rocking chair and sundry other nursery items.
15. Photograph everything for posterity because the room will never be this organized and clean, ever again.
16. Drinks for everyone! Except the Preggosaurus, who will grumble into her lemonade while being uninhibitedly thrilled that the nursery is done and she didn't have to inhale more fumes than necessary.

Pictures!

Really before. This was in the middle of the sorting and removing crap from the closet.



During rip up. Half carpet, quarter pad, quarter sub-floor. And yes, that is a squat cage, thanks for asking.
After the rip up was completed.

Here is Caitlin's new fan. Eric installed it yesterday. The twins will have a matching fan. The existing one came with the house and us oooogly! Not just ugly, people, oooooogly.
The sky in the twin's room will be a night sky, I think. Gotta do things differently this time. The flooring in both rooms will match, though. Eric is going to install Pergo-type flooring in maple to match the fan blades and thus bring more light into the room. I can hear my very-allergic-to-cats mother-in-law cheering from here. Yes, we are removing the carpeting and replacing it with much easier to clean flooring. The twins' room will be first and then Caitlin's room. Then, if I haven't burned Eric out too much, I'll even have him do our room.

Ooooh, the excitement! I know, it's not much in the way of excitement but hey! I'm hugely pregnant, I can't take too much excitement!

About Kaboom

I was thinking about my cats yesterday and thought I'd regale you with cat stories rather than continued tales of "Whoa! I'm still sick!". Way more fun for all involved.

Domino has become the external face of Hatchet House: outgoing, friendly and looking for snuggles. Kaboom, on the other hand, is the cat you'll never see: nervous, paranoid but extremely snuggly with pretty much just me.

He seems to be a combination of previous cats - Pixel's skittishness, emotionally sort of like Xerxes, definitely her looks (although without the white tuxedo highlights) and his fur is pelt-like the way Dart's was: thick and rich. He is a great contrast to Domino, who will lay about with his belly exposed (he's confident and happy), but isn't really interested in you petting it. Kaboom never lays about with his belly exposed (Domino would probably attack), but when he hangs out with me in the bathroom, will stretch himself out so that he's an extra foot and a half long and will let me pet his side and tummy as long as I like. With my foot, even. Domino will put up with foot petting for about 2 strokes and then complains and walks away indignantly.

"I knew that you were part monkey but...Gah!"

I don't know about you, but my cats trained me long ago that I should never go to the bathroom alone. Started with Xerxes banging the door with her claws: bang-a! bang-a! bang-a! with her paw hooked under the door until I let her in. How could I possibly be safe in the little room with all the water alone? Then Pixel got in on the act and it's been all over since then. By the time Caitlin was born, the whole concept of having privacy in the bathroom was a foregone conclusion. So now the cats guard me while I shower. Or, maybe they just like saunas. Who knows? But when your hands are wet and drippy and a cat needs petting, that's where the foot petting comes in.

Kaboom is also a great masseuse.

No, really!

Late at night, after the umpteenth trip to the bathroom (And this is only the first trimester!), when I return to bed, I tend to pet the mostly sleeping Kaboom as I lay down again. He then goes into Snuggle Mode. He doesn't just walk up to my chin, lay down across my throat and get petted like Domino does, oh no. Instead, he walks up behind me, between Eric and I and I have to pet him over my shoulder (I like to sleep facing outwards). I scritch him and he purrs in my ear, then he settles down behind me and kneads my lower back, or my side if I'm flat on my back.

Knead, knead, knead. Ahhh!

He keeps his razor sharp claws sheathed and kneads away happily. It puts me back to sleep, knowing that I am well loved and kneaded by my cat. Hee!

He's pretty well mannered and never hollers about needing breakfast right now! in the mornings, but is the first to chase Caitlin downstairs once she starts moving. Unfortunately, since he's not top cat, he has to wait for Domino to choose which bowl he's going to eat out of first. After that momentous decision has been made, then Kaboom can eat.

It's tough, but he's well loved. If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I want to come back as a cat in a house like mine.

About Domino

Originally emailed 8/13/05:

If ONLY my grumpy 15 year old cat would play with Kaboom, our 8 month old. But NOOoooOOOO, he has no interest he says and that Kaboom can go take a flying leap into the neighbor's yard. The neighbor with the dogs, that is.

Tired of listening to the fighting, yelling, hissing and screaming, as well as being mangled in the middle of the night as Pixel leaps onto the bed and GOUGES trenches out of my legs, we gave in.

Yes, we bought another kitten.

His name is Domino. Originally it was Josh, but who are we to stick to normal human names?! He's 4 months old and feisty! He was very playful at the local shelter so we figured he should be able to hold his own against Kaboom. Who really just desperately wants to play, but Pixel doesn't. Pixel figures he is too dignified (Hah!) to play with bratty baby cats. So we figured, in order to keep the peace in the house that we should get a friend for Kaboom. Highest on the list was someone young, but not too young and PLAYFUL.

Hungry too. This guy is VORACIOUS! And snuggly. He makes Kaboom look HUGE! Of course, Kaboom is now at 10 lbs, so he kinda IS huge. Perhaps getting someone to chase around will help slim him down. It's clear that he's sucked down way too many kitty kibbles as well as large snatches of Pixel food. So far, the introduction is going very well. Kaboom has pretty much ignored Pixel since the kitten came into the house. He has tried desperately to play with Domino and succeeds for a little while until the kitten starts to feel overwhelmed by Kaboom's need to play. Then Domino hisses like a tiny asp.

Pixel pretty much ignores the new kitten, unless he meets up with him face to face unexpectedly. Then there's hissing from Pixel and the kitten runs away. Pixel then runs in the opposite direction. He's such a big scaredy cat!

Anyway, the experiment in Introducing New Kitten As Playmate seems to be a success!

Size comparison (not in focus - darn those moving objects!).
Note: I was coming up empty on what to write and ran across this email. Domino's a whole lot bigger now!
He'll be two this May. And he's still snuggly and is excellent friends with Kaboom. Who is also bigger now.

Ciao!

Items of note

Cat cremains are always surprisingly heavy.

Now I have three of them sitting on my mantle, awaiting the day I have a permanent place to put them. Ideally, I'd like a miniature pyramid made of wood, with one side hinged, so I can get into it. Then they'd have a mini cat mausoleum. Very Eqyptian, too.

I've been cleaning a lot, in the last few days and am slowly getting rid of Pixel's stuff. Special cat food, bowl, special treats, etc. Each one feels like a tiny betrayal, and yet I know that it's just stuff and has nothing to do with the cat himself. At some point I'll even have vacuumed up the last of Pixel's hair from the sofa (novel concept, that!) and then what? Just one small box that seems unusually heavy.

By the way, Kaboom has been acting oddly since Pixel died. I don't remember if I mentioned it previously, but from being the kitten that drove Pixel to distraction, he became his friend. The two of them would hang out under the bed together quietly, curled up together. After 16 years of never getting to curl up around another cat (neither Xerxes nor Dart would curl up with him, or with each other - they were only children that way), I imagine that this was pretty nice for Pixel. During his last night, Kaboom stayed under the bed with him the whole time, except for food. It was very sweet.

When we came to get Pixel that Wednesday morning, Kaboom was right next to him and seemed, if possible, concerned. For the last several days he's been looking for more attention from us and doesn't hang out under the bed as much. Neither he nor Domino are eating as much, either, for whatever reason. They aren't losing weight or anything, they're just not scarfing it down like they normally do.

So cats grieve, Eric and I are grieving and Caitlin seems completely over it. After I cleaned the carpet in Pixel's room Caitlin referred to it as "The dead cat's room.". Damn! That was quick! We were both a little taken aback and laughed ruefully. It's better than constantly weeping, I'll give it that.

So there it is - the end of the first wave of cats.

Goodnight Pixel

Sixteen and a half years ago, I got a second cat to keep my first cat, Xerxes, company. Travis (my ex-boyfriend) and I went to the Humane Society in Springfield, MA to look over their selection of kitties.

Since Xerxes was only 6 months old (or so), we wanted to get a kitten that was around the same age. It was September and there were only a few kittens available. There were two that were brothers, one grey striped, large and lanky whose name was Eeyore, the other was smaller, orange and white and his name was Pooh. His coloring looked like someone had spilled a large jar of marmalade onto a white cat from above! We opened the cages up and handled the kittens. Pooh immediately started purring in my arms and between that (I'm a sucker for a good, loud purr,) and the fact that he was actually smaller than his brother decided me. So we asked if we could take him home. The volunteers took one look at us and gushed that we had to take him, since he hissed horribly at everyone else. We were the first people that were able to touch him without being threatened with kitten violence.

So we took him home. We popped him into the cardboard carrier and he purred. We played within him through the carrier holes and he purred. We let him out onto the floor of our kitchen and he purred, with his tiny orange tail held high for hours and hours and hours. He didn't stop purring until he fell asleep on my chest that night. And if I touched him lightly after he fell asleep and stopped purring, he immediately started purring again.

Many years passed. Many trips from MA to NYC and back again. One long trip cross-country to Colorado and here he has been for the last 14 years of his life. He had good times and bad times (destroyed the basement walls). We introduced Dart to him when he was 9. He would go on to outlive both Xerxes (cancer) at 12 and Dart (mysterious fluid in chest) at 7. We thought he was going to be our 25 year cat. Grouchy, but long lived. Turns out that we were wrong.

When I first took him home he had ear mites. For ever afterward he never liked anyone messing with his ears. He lost a lot of teeth over the years to tartar disease, a disease that usually was only a problem for pedigreed cats. Somewhere along the way he developed kidney disease and had to have special food that was extremely low in protein. He hated watching kittens come and go whose food he wasn't allowed to steal. Two years ago he developed a tiny lump in his right rear leg. We had it immediately removed, even though it was benign, but it came back this year in the same spot. We had it removed again and it returned again within 4 months and grew and grew. In the last several months he dropped a lot of weight. He used to be a 20 lb cat. Huge! But with his long legs he never looked as fat as he could have. He dropped down to skin and bones - somewhere under 8 lbs in the end. This last month he developed an upper respiratory infection. The peeing outside the cat box returned with a vengeance. More medications and more visits. Finally, I was ready to let him go, but Eric wasn't ready yet.

We couldn't afford to have him undergo an ultrasound to see if there was anything else wrong. We couldn't afford to pay for tumor removal surgery, and he probably wouldn't have survived it anyway. It's been really hard to watch him fade over this last month, but we did. The vet prescribed steroids in an attempt to pre-emptively diagnose whatever else seemed to be wrong with him (possible intestinal tract infection), but he never snapped back.

Last night Eric noticed he couldn't really stand. We made the decision to take him in to the vet today, while Caitlin was in school. Last night, I told her to say goodbye to Pixel because he probably wasn't going to make it. There was a storm of crying - both hers and Eric's. It took quite awhile to calm her down and get her to sleep. I felt it was a better decision to get her to have the chance to say goodbye than to just sneak him off. I didn't tell her that we had him put to sleep, because I don't think she's ready for that kind of information. Today we didn't bring it up at all and when she asked where he was we told her that he had passed away. She took it very well today, only a little sadness, no wild crying.

Eric and I said goodbye to him at 11:30 am today. The wild crying was Eric's - Pixel was Eric's first cat, really. Xerxes was clearly a one person cat and I was that person. Pixel just as clearly loved Eric. Eric taught him to kill socks, whenever we did laundry. Cleaned up after him when he made messes and even though it angered him, never took it out on Pixel. Let Pixel chew on the ear pieces of his glasses. Pixel would walk around the two of us when we laid down in bed in the magical kitty circle of protection. He would snuggle me when I had migraines. He would lay on Eric's legs when Eric fell asleep on the sofa and didn't feel well.

And he purred.

I've never known a cat that purred as much or as loudly as Pixel did. He held an amazing amount of love in such a small body.

At the vet's office, they were very respectful and quiet. We had a darkened room, a candle, low lighting. The vet installed a catheter in his front leg for his two final shots: one to make him fall asleep painlessly and the other to stop his heart. We petted him and petted him as they gave him the injections. I watched him die. I felt the moment his heart stopped.

Amid the tears, all I could think was this:

Goodnight, Pixel. Goodnight. You were a good boy.

A day for quick updates

Item the First: I was picked to be on the jury for a federal case! Whoo hoo! I've been wanting to be on a jury for years and was never called! I had to wake up at 5:30am and wait from 8:30am-11:20am for them to finish the jury selection process. We ended at 5pm. I'll be back for two more days, too.

Can't tell you anything about it other than it's a criminal case and that my perspective as a juror has probably changed significantly since Eric is a lawyer.

I totally thought they'd toss me off for that one, but they didn't care once I said, "Intellectual Property".

Item the Second: Due to the above, I missed Misty's swearing in ceremony! She's now an officially licensed lawyer! In Colorado! But she lives in Jersey! OK, well...she's planning on sitting for the bar there too, because she's like that.

Item the Third: Pixel's not dead! He has stopped doing the horrible cry every 5-10 minutes and the appetite stimulant seems to be working. I think it may have been the shots making him miserable, but it doesn't mean he's not going to die. He's just not going to die this moment.

Item the Fourth: I get to go to my parents' 40th wedding anniversary thanks to my brother. He's footing the majority of the bill for all of Chez Hatchet to fly out. Wow! Thanks!

Item the Fifth: I'm exhausted! Listening intensely all day long is very tiring. And my explanation point usage has gotten out of hand! I'm going to bed right after this!

Much story telling about the trial stuff tomorrow! The parts I can tell, that is, about my feelings. Whee! And the decor. Very swank.

Tomorrow. Promise. Really!

The cries of the cat

I can't sleep. Or nap, rather.

Caitlin has gone off to have a nap and is sending sleep vibes out from her room. Domino and Kaboom are snoozing on my bed, adding their sleeping vibes to the mix. It's a very powerful sopophoric. Down in the living room on the couch, I put down my book and pull the blanket up higher on my shoulders. I pull Pixel up on my chest and pet him to get him to lay down. It's nice to drift off with a purring cat on me, very soothing.

His wordless cry wakes me up, filled with many vowels and pain. "Oh-waaa! Ohh-waaaa!" Pixel is wandering around the dining room, looking for something he can't define. I listen for that sound and don't hear it in his voice. Yet. I call out to Pixel to return to me and be comforted. We try to comfort one another, knowing that we can't, really.

We've decided we're not going to go to heroic extremes to save Pixel from death. He's tired and old. And yes, now he's in pain. That might just be from the blood draws and the urine sample from the vet visit on Tuesday. Every time he goes to sit or lay down, he cries out the same way: the long liquid vowels that aren't imminent death but are painful to listen to. Heart wrenching. He no longer walks around the house with his tail held high like a flag. Now he walks stiffly, in sort of a waddle, with his rump curved under him. Stairs are getting tougher. He takes them very slowly and looks as if he might slip going up or down them.

He's still purring all the time, though.

I locked the other two cats out of the bedroom yesterday and placed Pixel on our bed. I read while he tried to get comfortable. His happiest moment of the day is when Eric and I go to bed and he gets to curl up between us both and gets our undivided attention. He purrs and licks our hands. He leaves the tip of his tongue outside his mouth as if he's forgotten it's there. I think that is the cutest thing in the world, when cats do that. Dogs may wander through life with their tongues lolling out, but cats don't, so it's always striking and funny when they do it. He no longer paces around the both of us in his magical kitty circle of protection, as he did the first bunch of years of his life before he'd lay down to sleep.

He purrs and we pet him. He lays down at the foot of the bed when he's tired of our touch. His purring gets quieter and slows down. We talk to him and his purring picks up its pace again. Verbal petting, I guess. We talk quietly about our options, or their lack. He's had a long and happy life, this one. He outlived Xerxes, my very first cat who died at 12; he outlived Dart, Eric's very first kitten who died at 7. We joked that Pixel threatened to outlive the two new cats, when we brought them home and they made him crazy.

We no longer joke about that.

Maybe it's just the pokes and prods from the vet visit. Maybe he'll snap out of this and feel a little better next week. We're still not ready to pull the plug, although it looks like that choice may not be up to us this time, just as it wasn't the last two times.

So now we wait, our sleep broken, listening to the cries of the cat.

And then the vet called...

To give me the results of Pixel's assorted blood and urine tests.

His kidneys and liver are good, considering that he already has kidney problems for which we already have him on Science Diet k/d. However...(as always), he has lost at least a pound since last year. He's at 9 lb 3 oz now. He isn't eating a whole lot, he's even stopped stealing the kitten's food. He has two new things to add to his list: he has a heart murmur and he's anemic. Turns out there are two kinds of anemia he might have: the expensive or the inexpensive kind.

• Non-regenerative anemia may be due to the existing problems he already has: kidney disease and the fibrosarcoma (benign lumps on leg). His body has enough to deal with, it just isn't going to put out any extra effort to replace red blood cells.
• Losing blood internally (not in his urine or intestines) which may be due to some mass growing on or in an internal organ.

It is only possible to determine which version of anemia he has and what course of treatment to take by having an abdominal ultrasound and an echocardiogram to check on the cause of the heart murmur. The vet also recommended we start "supportive care" by giving him the cat version of glucosamine and an appetite stimulant. We have until next Thursday to decide what we're going to do - that's when the traveling ultrasound group comes to the vet hospital.

I turned to Eric to fill him in on what the vet had said and then burst into tears.

I feel such guilt I can hardly encompass it. As she told me what my options were: expensive treatment or ignore it and make Pixel "comfortable", I kept feeling like I'm a terrible pet owner.

My choice comes down to money. Not whether it's the right thing to do, but whether we can afford it or not. The diagnosis alone will cost around $350. Keep in mind that that is the starting price. If they actually find a mass, we then have the secondary dilemma of what to do if there is something in there. Suddenly you have to weigh the cost of the diagnosis with the possibility that they will find something. Then you have to move on to the secondary guilt of what to do if they do find something. Do we then spend close to (I'm guessing) $1000 to get a 16 year old cat operated on to remove a mass? Will he get more years of life out of it if we do? How many more? What if we don't? How much sooner will he die if we just provide supportive care? Is he happy? Is he in pain? Is he ready to die? I'm not ready to put him to sleep and I'm really rather hoping that like Xerxes and Dart, he takes the decision from me.

Xerxes was 12 when she died, 4 years ago. She had cancer and we had money so we drove her to the vet hospital at CSU in Ft. Collins and gave her chemotherapy. It gave her another year of life and time for me to say goodbye. I made the call that morning to have the service come that would put her to sleep at my house (Did you know that there are services that will basically provide door to door euthanasia service? I had no idea. My friend Christine found out for me, for which I remain terribly grateful.) when she died, in my arms, in the backyard. I took her outside to feel the sun on her fur for the last time and she started dying. Or finished dying, depending on how you look at it.

I wailed and I keened with a dead cat in my lap until I could call my friend to come over and help me. I promise you that I am not exaggerating; Xerxes was my very first cat, I got her when she was only 2 months old, and I loved her dearly.

Dart died abruptly at 7, last February.

We had just noticed he was having a hard time breathing, had some sort of bloody sebum drawn out of the space around his lungs and ultrasounded him (looking for a mass) when he died two days after the ultrasound. One week after noticing he was sick, he was dead. He was possibly the sweetest cat I'll ever own.

I still miss them both.

Both cats went through the same process when they died. They made the caterwaul: it's a very real thing and can't ever be confused with the "lost cat" crying noise cats make sometimes when wandering around the house. It's the sort of sound that shakes you to the core. It is an awful thing and it is final. After that, they go into death throes and then they make the "death rattle" sound in their throats. And as awful as that is to see in person, when it happens naturally, somehow the thought of causing it to happen to Pixel is more than I can bear.

In neither case did I have to question if I would give them treatment. I just did because we had the money to do so. Now, here I am debating whether we can afford it or not.

I know some of you are thinking: "It's just a cat." And you're right: it is just a cat. However it's just my cat. A cat I've had for longer than I've been with Eric. It's still a serious decision to make and is emotionally wrenching for me. I have to weigh the cost of treatment against the potential gain in years of life. And as Dart showed us, it's possible that Pixel could either die on the operating table or immediately after treatment.

I have a responsibility to my pets, just as I do to my child and husband. I chose to make them part of my household. I have to take care of them because they cannot take care of themselves (like children, not like Eric). They don't even have the benefit of refusing care or telling us what they want or need, we just have to guess. We have to figure out who we're doing this for, the pet or the owner, and then we have deal with the fallout from any decisions made. Longevity versus quality of life.

The crazy thing is that all of these same issues for my cat are identical to what we go through for family in the same situation and clearly even more emotionally draining. I can only hope that I never have to make the choice between family care and finances. It is yet another reason that I believe we need universal healthcare in this country. Otherwise we're just saying as a nation, that it's perfectly fine if poor people die but let's save all the rich ones. That's just not right.

It's also why I believe in the right to request euthanasia. If it's "good enough" for our pets to "put them out of their misery", why wouldn't it be good enough for our family members? Especially if they ask it of you.

Do not resuscitate orders.

Living wills.

Pixel doesn't have one, so I have to choose for him. Am I strong enough?

Breaking and entering

Pixel's saga continues....

We thought we had it all wrapped up: the eliminating outside of the cat box. Pixel was going in and out of his door, albeit loudly in the middle of the night, and enjoying having his own space in which to eliminate, eat, drink or sleep, if he chose. There were no "accidents" and it appeared that he wasn't even going down to the basement anymore, either. We've even started leaving the basement door open at night since we're not worried about him sneaking in and peeing on the floor in here.

This past week, however, things have changed. First there was some poop outside of the box. Then a few days later, a puddle. We couldn't figure out why this was happening until we caught Domino in Pixel's room, eating Pixel's food.

The hollering started immediately.

Domino is not wearing the magnetic collar that triggers the door, but Pixel is. Pixel, however, can't seem to get the hang of just walking up to the door and pushing it with his head. Instead, he stands there and pushes on the door with his foot.

Over

and

Over

and

Over

and

Over again.

Bang! Bang! Clank! Bang! Clank! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Until, finally, he gets the door the way he likes it and then walks through it. He does this at all hours of the day and night. The worst part is at night, at 2am, when you're trying to sleep, of course. He won't just walk up and go. Even when he's exiting the room, and all he need to do is walk through it, he still pushes on it repeatedly (even though it doesn't lock that way) several times before he's ready to walk out.

So I blame Pixel for the current situation: he taught Domino that if you push hard enough on the door, it will open. And so it does.

So Domino walks up to the door, pushes it once, hard, with his foot and ambles inside. Quickly and almost quietly. He's better at it than Pixel is! He hangs out in there, eats all of Pixel's food and ambushes Pixel when he walks in the door. When he's tired of exerting his dominance over all things Pixel, he then calmly walks out and goes about his day. To think that we were wondering how Domino seemed to be gaining so much weight!

When I catch him, I chase him around while hollering. I use a penny bottle and a water sprayer when I can. Otherwise, he's getting away with it on a daily basis. I can't stop him, either. If I'm in the kitchen and I hear someone messing with the door for only a short time, it's usually him. If I hear the door banging repeatedly, I know it's Pixel. This begs the question: so now what?!

Eric mentioned getting a dog fence, surrounding the door with the wire and putting the receiver on Domino's collar. Zap! Do not pass go, do not collect cat food. I suggested the remote training collar for dogs. Zap! Leave that door alone! Neither one seems to be feasible, even if they are emotionally satisfying techniques.

Today, though, Pixel has his annual vet appointment where they will tell us how much closer to death's door he is. That poor cat! He's almost 17 years old, has benign tumors on his right rear leg (at least 3 that I count, one is the size of an egg), bad kidneys, missing teeth and is grumpy.

If you're wondering why we don't do anything about the egg-sized tumors, never fear. They showed up 2 years ago as a pea sized lump around New Years day. I immediately took him in, had it removed and biopsied. It was benign, but of the type that would come back larger every year. Right on schedule, the following New Years, he had another lump in the same place and about the same size. I took him in to our new vet and had them remove it. They told us that it would come back again and that they saw 4 possibilities for us:

1. Chemotherapy. Too expensive. Besides, he's 16!
2. Cut off his leg. Are you kidding? He's grumpy already! Can you imagine how it would be if we cut off his leg?
3. Leave it alone. It's not causing him pain or stopping him from walking. All it does is get bigger over time.
4. Surgically remove it when it gets too big. Expensive, but more reasonable than options 1 or 2.
   

It came back within 4 months. More than one, this time, too. So we've left it, with the plan to cut it off when it got to an unreasonable size. We might be closing in on that timeframe, but again we're still...um...financially challenged. He will have to wait a little longer. It truly doesn't seem to bother him as he sits basking in the sun, whiling away his remaining days, sleeping in the sunlight on the back of the couch. He doesn't do a whole lot but he still purrs all the time. He purrs when you talk to him, when he notices you looking at him and when you pet him, of course. He seems content enough, except for the Domino thing. I've suggested having him put to sleep but Eric won't hear it. For a cat in crappy shape, Pixel is still in there and still happy.

He's been a good cat ever since I got him at 6 months old. Really, the only problem was with the elimination and his teeth. He has poor dental genetics. All of these years he's been a bundle of purr.

How do you know when it's time to say goodbye to that?

It's always a mistake to nickname your cat "Pooper"

Originally emailed 7/26 - now with updates!

I'd say it's a mistake to name or nickname any animal anything that has anything remotely to do with bodily functions, but most especially elimination. You're just asking Karma to bite you in the ass.

As you all know, Pixel has been crotchety ever since we got the new kittens.

The Culprit



















Some of you have had personal experience cleaning up after him (We're REALLY sorry!) when he has pooped or peed on the floor RIGHT NEXT TO the cat boxes. You probably hated it. We hate it. We tried all sorts of things.

1. Checked with the vet: is he sick? Several hundred dollars later for testing... Nope. Perfectly healthy except for the lumps and being 16. Other than that, no sign of any infections.
2. Maybe just one cat box that's cleaned daily isn't enough? $20 in plastic storage boxes later... We tried adding two more cat boxes. Nope. Now MORE cat boxes to pee NEXT to.
3. Twice daily cleaning. Any difference? Nope. Random days WITHOUT peeing. No consistency.
4. New cat litter? Sometimes in it, mostly next to it.
5. Cleaned the floor with enzyme solution. Cleaned the floor with bleach. Cleaned the boxes with OxyClean. Cleaned the boxes with bleach. Randomly peeing/not peeing or pooping/not pooping. Still no pattern.
6. Bought the expensive cat attracting litter additive (smells like catnip and something else). Nope. The kittens LOVE it, though. The scratching, it is incessant. Perhaps they love it too much!
   
7. Tried adding a cat box in OUR bathroom. Proximity problem? Nope. Peed right next to that one too. Now I have to clean my tile up, too!
   
8. Bought the really expensive cat pheromone thingy. And the pheremone spray. No response.
9. Tried spraying the really horrible smelling bad cat stuff around. Still nothing, except now MY nose was offended. Choking and coughing ensued.
   

So we figured it must be the kittens. They must be chasing him or cornering him, or he THINKS they're about to so he pees/poops and runs. He isn't leaving unhappy presents throughout the house or anything - just RIGHT NEXT TO the cat boxes. Now we're desperate and have decided it's time for a crash course in retraining. We locked him into Caitlin's bathroom for2-3 days with a cat box, his food, water, a mat to lay on, a toy and a scratching post. We visited often throughout the day.

Not one single accident.

Yup. It's the kittens.

They look innocent, don't they? (Kaboom on left, Domino on right.)

Now we've moved him into the exercise room where it's a much bigger space and (hopefully) more comfortable. He's always excited to see us and purrs and purrs and purrs. Dedicated Pixel time. No kittens.

Not one single accident.

Now, it would be cruel to leave him locked away in that room for the rest of his life, so we've decided to install a magnetically locking cat door (it's in the mail to us right now) with a collar "key" that will unlock the door. This should keep the kittens out completely. The plan is to train him to go in and out of the cat door using treats and attention. We will leave his food, water and cat box in there. The other cats will not be allowed in. We're HOPING that he can learn that THIS is his safe place and where he is expected to use the cat box. We're hoping we can give him access to the rest of the house once he proves willing to go in and out of the cat door and that he won't try to go in the basement again.

This is our hope.

If that doesn't work, then we're gonna start locking him up in there every night, letting him out only after he's eaten his breakfast and putting him away every night with his dinner. We'll also be taking up the kitten's food once Caitlin is done with her breakfast, so they will need to learn to eat FASTER!

I'm hoping it doesn't come to that. Otherwise we could be looking at another 10 years of solitary confinement! Aieee!

Wish us luck!

P.S. In case you're wondering what took us so long, previously it was "just" poop, which is irritating, but VERY easy to clean up. Lately, it seems to be both ALL THE TIME. That got old REALLY fast.

Update to the story:

Well, we taught him to go in and out of the door. No poop/pee occured for the first few days and then suddenly, it started up again. Both in his new room and in the basement. Whaaaaat?! In one location isn't enough for you? Aargh!

So I talked to the vet again while I had Domino in for a well visit. She said that we were extremely dedicated owners, she's never seen the like. Kudos to us. Then she suggested anti-anxiety meds. For my cat. Clearly, says she, he's not happy with the other cats and this pattern will continue. Try the drugs for a month and see how it goes.

Well, I'm here to tell you that a) my kitty is on meds and b) it's working. For awhile we were still locking him up at night, since that's when he was at his worst. Now we've tried letting him roam free - after taking up the kitten food. As soon as we put his food down in his room in the morning, he immediately walks downstairs and lurks near the kitten food. He expects that since it's early, I won't notice him sneaking bites. Sometimes he's right, but mostly he just gets yelled at and skulks off to wait for me to get distracted again.

So there you have it - we've traded pooping and peeing next to the cat boxes for a hole in our door and drugs. I've had him for 16 years (longer than I've been with Eric), so I can't justify kicking him to the curb over this. I may be able to imagine it, but not actually do it.

Three cheers for modern medicine and magnetic kitty doors! Huzzah!